Because it often seems that the American beer scene offers the only reliable supply of "hey, things really are getting better" news. [And please see update below.]
I was a big fan of Houston when I was based in Austin many years ago, and I like it even better now. Back during one of the oil crashes of the 1980s I wrote an Atlantic piece making the case for Houston as America-in-miniature: adaptable, optimistic and future-minded, unmannered in all senses of the term, full of and shaped by immigrants. (I'm not providing a link because it was in one of the 80s-era issues we don't yet have on line.) I make this point because I think prevailing East Coast and West Coast opinions have not fully caught up with the idea of Houston's hipness, ambition, and charm. Two signs of progress: Forbes made a case last year that Houston was "America's coolest city," in other than the literal thermal sense; and the WSJ paid its respects to Houston's verve and style earlier this month.
But even I was surprised to find that Houston -- which I had long associated with Lone Star, Pearl, Texas Pride , and similar fare -- is now another of our craftbrew capitals. The view out my hotel window not long ago:
These were all really good. Before you ask: yes, this was a morning shot; I waited a decent interval to try them in the evenings once I got back home.
Dateline Utah, plus Delaware, Germany, and Pennsylvania:
Or at least Utah's handiwork as seen from our house in DC. Here's the lineup on a winter afternoon, with IDs below:
What you're seeing, working from the center outward:
In the middle, two of the new "special IPA glasses" jointly designed by Dogfish Head of Delaware, Sierra Nevada of California, and Spiegelau of Germany. Their ambition is to be "the go-to glass to amplify and balance even the hoppiest of IPAs... [and] change the way you experience hop-forward beers." The glass on the left is empty, the better to show off its cute little shark/dogfish logo. The one on the right is ready for use, filled with the Hop Notch beer I'm about to mention. The glasses are $9 apiece plus shipping from the Dogfish Head online store, and I will say that this latest IPA tasted very good therein.
Next out from the center, two offerings from Uinta, in Salt Lake City. Hop Notch, on the right, is by my reckoning a really wonderful IPA. You don't have to believe me: the Alström brothers at Beer Advocate gave it a "world class" ranking. The Wyld Pale Ale is good too.
On the outside, two tried and true favorites: Hop Devil IPA, and Headwaters Pale Ale, both from the Victory brewing company of Downington, Pa.
Dan Fromson, an Atlantic alum, has the enviable assignment of being the WaPo's beer writer. (Plus some other duties.) Here is one of his recent reports on the craft brew renaissance right here in Dysfunction City.
Back to Utah again:
Just because it's cheering, here is a sample of the other beers from Utah featured on the Uinta site.
That is all.
UPDATE Actually it's not! I forgot to mention that Uinta Brewery says it is 100% wind-powered. From the company's page (emphasis in original):
Uinta Brewing Company (UBC) became 100% wind powered in 2001. The first company to be 100% wind powered in the State of Utah, Uinta has worked cooperatively as a Visionary with Pacificor's Blue Sky Program to promote the use of wind power to commercial and residential users throughout the state. Blue Sky Pilsner was named in honor of wind power. In 2011, Uinta installed solar-electric paneling on the brewery's roof, allowing up to 30KW of electrical power to be generated for Uinta's beer production--roughly 15% of the brewery's power usage. Uinta is currently 15% Solar and 85% Wind Powered.
James Fallows is a national correspondent for The Atlantic and has written for the magazine since the late 1970s. He has reported extensively from outside the United States and once worked as President Carter's chief speechwriter. His latest book is China Airborne.
It happened gradually—and until the U.S. figures out how to treat the problem, it will only get worse.
It’s 2020, four years from now. The campaign is under way to succeed the president, who is retiring after a single wretched term. Voters are angrier than ever—at politicians, at compromisers, at the establishment. Congress and the White House seem incapable of working together on anything, even when their interests align. With lawmaking at a standstill, the president’s use of executive orders and regulatory discretion has reached a level that Congress views as dictatorial—not that Congress can do anything about it, except file lawsuits that the divided Supreme Court, its three vacancies unfilled, has been unable to resolve.
On Capitol Hill, Speaker Paul Ryan resigned after proving unable to pass a budget, or much else. The House burned through two more speakers and one “acting” speaker, a job invented following four speakerless months. The Senate, meanwhile, is tied in knots by wannabe presidents and aspiring talk-show hosts, who use the chamber as a social-media platform to build their brands by obstructing—well, everything. The Defense Department is among hundreds of agencies that have not been reauthorized, the government has shut down three times, and, yes, it finally happened: The United States briefly defaulted on the national debt, precipitating a market collapse and an economic downturn. No one wanted that outcome, but no one was able to prevent it.
As it’s moved beyond the George R.R. Martin novels, the series has evolved both for better and for worse.
Well, that was more like it. Sunday night’s Game of Thrones finale, “The Winds of Winter,” was the best episode of the season—the best, perhaps, in a few seasons. It was packed full of major developments—bye, bye, Baelor; hello, Dany’s fleet—but still found the time for some quieter moments, such as Tyrion’s touching acceptance of the role of Hand of the Queen. I was out of town last week and thus unable to take my usual seat at our Game of Thrones roundtable. But I did have some closing thoughts about what the episode—and season six in general—told us about how the show has evolved.
Last season, viewers got a limited taste—principally in the storylines in the North—of how the show would be different once showrunners Benioff and Weiss ran out of material from George R.R. Martin’s novels and had to set out on their own. But it was this season in which that exception truly became the norm. Though Martin long ago supplied Benioff and Weiss with a general narrative blueprint of the major arcs of the story, they can no longer rely on the books scene by scene. Game of Thrones is truly their show now. And thanks to changes in pacing, character development, and plot streamlining, it’s also a markedly different show from the one we watched in seasons one through four—for the worse and, to some degree, for the better.
Their degrees may help them secure entry-level jobs, but to advance in their careers, they’ll need much more than technical skills.
American undergraduates are flocking to business programs, and finding plenty of entry-level opportunities. But when businesses go hunting for CEOs or managers, “they will say, a couple of decades out, that I’m looking for a liberal arts grad,” said Judy Samuelson, executive director of the Aspen Institute’s Business and Society Program.
That presents a growing challenge to colleges and universities. Students are clamoring for degrees that will help them secure jobs in a shifting economy, but to succeed in the long term, they’ll require an education that allows them to grow, adapt, and contribute as citizens—and to build successful careers. And it’s why many schools are shaking up their curricula to ensure that undergraduate business majors receive something they may not even know they need—a rigorous liberal-arts education.
The Supreme Court declined to hear a major religious-freedom case on Tuesday, showing how much things have changed since Hobby Lobby.
Two years ago, the U.S. Supreme Court handed down a controversial 5-4 ruling about birth control and religion, Burwell v. Hobby Lobby Stores, Inc. Because of the ruling, private companies owned by religious people, including the craft-supply chain Hobby Lobby, can now refuse to cover certain kinds of birth control in their employee insurance plans, a requirement that was put in place by the 2010 Affordable Care Act. Supporters of the ruling claimed it as a triumph for religious freedom and an important precedent for cases about conscience-based objections to contraception.
Two years later, a pharmacy chain in Washington state, Stormans Inc., which operates a store in Olympia called Ralph’s Thriftway, has been denied a hearing before the Supreme Court. The pharmacy’s owners, along with two other pharmacists who are also plaintiffs in the case, Stormans, Inc. v. Wiesman, refused to stock emergency contraception, including Plan B and ella, for religious reasons—they believe the pills are effectively abortifacients. Long-standing state regulations require Washington pharmacies to stock a “representative assortment of drugs in order to meet the pharmaceutical needs of ... patients.” The requirements were updated in 2007, specifying that pharmacies must deliver all FDA-approved drugs to customers; they can’t refer people to get medication at a different location for any kind of religious or moral reasons.
The impenetrable Supreme Court justice’s leftward shift and his latest blockbuster of a term.
Some years ago, Dahlia Lithwick and I christened Justice Anthony Kennedy “the Sphinx of Sacramento.” Throughout his nearly 30 years on the Supreme Court, Kennedy’s mind has often seemed like a distant and mysterious country, with its own language and folkways beyond the ken of normal Americans.
Seldom has it seemed more puzzling than at the end of the Court’s 2015 to 2016 term. Kennedy’s votes in two crucial cases—one dealing with affirmative action and the other with abortion—procured important, and surprisingly sweeping, liberal victories on high-profile issues that conservatives care desperately about.
What is the Sphinx up to?
I often violently disagree with Kennedy’s legal judgment, but I cannot help but admire his personal qualities. In public, and from what I can tell in private, he is a man of deep kindness, courtesy, and benevolence, embodying the sort of small-town civic virtue one would expect from a man who left the snake pit of a big San Francisco firm to go into solo practice in Sacramento, California. His opinions seldom display the petty meanness that sometimes disfigures his colleagues’ work.
Tokophobia—a pathological dread of giving birth—might be causing some women to avoid pregnancy.
In 2007, Helen Mirren shared what made her decide never to have children. In an interview with an Australian journalist, the award-winning English actress admitted it was an explicit video of childbirth, shown to her in her early teens when she attended a convent school. Thirty seconds into what the film deemed “the miracle of childbirth,” two 13-year-old boys fainted and had to be carried out of the classroom. That short break with the lights on—during which all of the children desperately avoided eye contact—gave Mirren the chance to realize she couldn’t watch the rest of the film.
"I swear it traumatized me to this day,” she said. “I haven't had children and now I can't look at anything to do with childbirth. It absolutely disgusts me."
The Freddie Gray trials illustrate the inability of criminal prosecutions to halt police brutality.
When Baltimore police officer Caesar Goodson Jr., was acquitted Thursday of all charges related to the death of Freddie Gray, the one emotion absent from the courtroom, social media, and the crowds of protesters in the city was surprise. The cases of all six officers alleged to be involved in Gray’s April 2015 death have been tossed about in a sea of strange legal wrangling and reshuffling, but without much real suspense. The trial of Officer Edward Nero ended in a judge’s acquittal, and that of Officer William Porter in a hung jury. All six officers charged in the case remain on administrative, drawing full salaries, pending the outcome of an internal investigation. But it’s likely that these officers will share the fate of most officers accused of killing black people in the line of duty: a return to police work.
A new study from Cleveland looks at the correlations between living conditions and kindergarten readiness.
Much has been written about how a child’s environment can hurt or help their development in the first crucial years of life. Researchers have established that poor children who grow up in poor neighborhoods are less likely to succeed than poor children who grow up in wealthier neighborhoods, and last month, I wrote about how a person’s chance of success plays out on the level of a city block.
Zooming in even farther, in a recent study from Case Western Reserve University, in Cleveland, social scientists wanted to see if a home’s physical condition could be linked to a child’s academic performance. They also wanted to see if dilapidated housing correlated with a higher risk of child abuse, residential instability and lead poisoning, which are also known to hurt academic outcomes in the first years of school.
Whether Trump later claims to be born again or passes over the question is irrelevant. Dobson’s statement of hearsay says nothing about Trump’s faith, but it reveals a lot about how some evangelicals are trying to steel themselves to vote for Trump in the fall.
There’s more to life than can be measured in monetary returns.
What’s a good use of money?
For investors, that question comes down to a relatively straightforward calculation: Which of the available options has the greatest expected return on the investment?
But investors are far from the only people who are using the “return on investment” framework to weigh different options. “This has become a very, very powerful tool for decision making, not only in business, but in our culture as a whole,” said Moses Pava, an ethicist and a dean of the Sy Syms School of Business at Yeshiva University, at the Aspen Ideas Festival, co-hosted by the Aspen Institute and The Atlantic. In particular, Pava sees this kind of thinking dominating the world of education, both on the part of students in choosing schools and majors, and on the part of school in how they market themselves to potential enrollees. This, he says, will not end well for liberal arts schools.